


Wind Sweeps You Off Your Feet: Shane's Saga

by JJBashir



Series: Wind Sweeps You Off Your Feet [1]
Category: Professional Wrestling, WWE/F, WWF - Fandom, World Championship Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Just a lot of unresolved, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-04-29 13:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5128595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJBashir/pseuds/JJBashir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The events of 'Dance The Light Of Day' from Shane McMahon's Point Of View.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When Drops of Jupiter started coming out, things quickly got out of hand, and there had to be a way to fill in all the blanks without writing one HUGE mega story...so the solution became to write 1st person commentaries between sections of the big story was the best way to go. These little commentaries will be dropped in at certain points, from our three protagonist's POV, to help clarify the action going on 'off-page' as it were.

_And tell me did the wind sweep you off of your feet_   
_Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day?_   
_And head back to the Milky Way...._   
_\--Train, Drops of Jupiter_

 

I don't where to start.

Hmmm...that's the story of my life.

Who am I? I'm Shane McMahon, biggest jackass to ever walk the face of the earth.

You might recognize me from the WWF. Vince McMahon. He's my dad. I own WCW...sort of. It's a long story. I've been groomed for this role I'm in my whole life. You should hear what the commentators call me. The Heir Apparent and my personal favorite (NOT) the Boy Wonder.

 

God, I hate that one.

 

Basically, I was born with more money than any human being could need, want or desire. I run one of the largest entertainment businesses in the world. And I am head over heels, disgustingly, hopelessly in love with the most unattainable woman in the whole world.

 

NO. Not Anna Kornakova.

 

Give me ten minutes. HER, I can get a date with.

 

No...my Executive Assistant. Well, when I met her, she wasn't that. She was just one of fifty applicants for the job of my executive assistant. And it wasn't even her looks that made me notice her.

Not that she's bad looking.

Au contraire.

She's beautiful. Her hair is literally honey colored, with streaks of blonde and brown and it glows and shimmers. Her eyes are this great hazel with flecks of pure gold in them. Her mouth. GOD. I have dreams about that mouth...perfect Betty Boop-boop-dee-doop rose bud lips and YES, they are cherry red without lipstick.

Nope--it wasn't her model good looks. Or even her cool demeanor, unflappable in the midst of the cattle call I put the applicants through to rattle them.

It was that damned book.

What kind of person reads a biography of Hannibal--for FUN?

A determined person, I later learned.

I also learned that she was no nonsense and VERY formal. She refused to call me Shane. I was Mister McMahon. She bullied me into eating lunch, ran my schedule with an iron fist, and generally made my office seamless. Things that needed doing seemed to do themselves. I half expected to accidentally stumble across her magic wand one day.

Mary Poppins, she wasn't. Her serious and formal demeanor extended to the talent as well, which in this business is a fatal error. Even at the higher echelons of management, wrestling is a family-style business. We live and die on being able to trust each other, and when you get someone not willing to open up, that person is shoved out on their ass. I couldn't afford  
to lose Josie. The entire point of this is to at least attempt to make World Championship Wrestling a viable and competitive rival promotion. I needed a solid right hand and if she wasn't going to make the effort, I was going to do it for her.

I dragged her on as many TV and house tour dates as I could. Figured if I could get her in front of the guys, show her that they were real people, instead of 'wrestlers' or caricatures, she'd open up a little more.

 

Would you be surprised if I told you 'no dice'?

 

Didn't think so...although she opened up in the office a bit more. Still wouldn't call me Shane but little things would slip, like a smile here or there at a funny joke.

Man, you can't believe how her face totally changes when she smiles. I still remember one of the first times I saw her really smile. 

Like the time I took her to that big business gala.

 

How was I supposed to know she knew half the movers and shakers in Atlanta? Actually I suspected it, I did actually read her resume when I hired her. But I didn't know how well she knew some of them and how much of a bonus it was about to be to me.

I picked her up at her place, this cute little-and I mean LITTLE-house on the other side of town. I have no idea what she's going to wear, 'cause for all I know, her idea of 'formal' is her everyday business suits in black.

Boy, was I ever wrong.

She was wearing this gorgeous pink dress. Yes, pink. She likes pastel colors. That's all I've ever seen her wear. THIS dress, though....

Close your eyes, and imagine Jackie Kennedy at the inauguration in 1960. Imagine that kind of a dress...imagine that poise...

 

Now, make Jackie a blonde.

 

I half expected Secret Service agents to come out of the bushes, that's how regal she looks. Chris and Stacy (who I dragged along for moral support) both make cracks about how she looks, but she pays no attention to them. I can't take my eyes off her all night. I've been around some of the most beautiful women in the world my whole life...and all of them pale in comparison. She is grace personified, chic and sheer sophistication, and I am totally awe-stricken by her every movement. After dinner, we dance, and again I am overwhelmed by her grace. She follows my every move, and makes me look like a great dancer...which I'm not, not by a long shot. Chris takes her for a whirl around the dance floor too, and I'm even more blown away by how beautiful and poised she is.

 

Looking back on things, I should have been paying attention to Chris more carefully that night. All the signs were there, even though Josie and Chris were barely civil to each other at the time. I should have paid more attention to the way Chris held her, the way he followed her with his eyes....

 

Hindsight is always 20/20.

 

Anyway, by the time that first 'date' was over, I was at least smitten by my assistant's beauty.

By Monday afternoon the next week, I was smitten by her skill.

 

She IS good.

She IS THAT damned good.

 

With Phil Mercer's comments running around in my head, I make her take over the sagging ad campaign for Nitro. An hour and a half later Neil Jackson, head of my design team, and Josie are at my desk, bickering and cursing each other out over opinions and she is throwing ultimatums like a first class exec. For most people, that would be a turn-off: watching a beautiful woman turn from prim and proper assistant to bitch-on-wheels in three-point-five seconds flat.

Me? I respect power. I respect people who can wield power. I respect people who understand that they ENJOY wielding power even more. That's when my little 'crush' started, I guess. Out of the office she was still hell on wheels but in the office, she would soften up on occasion.

Now don't get me wrong. I respect Josie immensely. Harvard Business School is nothing to sneeze at. She tries to hide that she likes to be in charge. She has the brains to be in charge. She has the personality to be in charge. Yet she only takes the reins when pushed to do so. She bullies the hell out of me but that's sort of her job, to keep me and my schedule and my stuff in order. When someone as strong willed as Josie refuses to let her nature take over in situations, it makes me curious.

I do some digging on my own, especially over at Jackson-Coe, her old job. The first time I walk in the office, I can't seem to see Josie in it. It bustles, it moves, sure. It reeks of ego and machismo. Josie seems like she would been an odd fit.

Let me correct that: the Josie I know, would be an odd fit.

I get to meet with D. Louis Jackson, one of the two partners. I try to relax: you can let I'm from the North around here. Atlanta is fast paced on the outside, but here business runs on an antebellum pace, most of the time. We exchange small talk over coffee, and Jackson chuckles at my 'fish-out-of-water- routine. We finally get down to business...well, MY business.

"Josie Donnelly," I begin.

"Ah...Josephine." In my ears, the way he says her name sounds even sweeter. "The best talent I've seen in a long time. That woman has real potential."

"Care to explain why she's only my executive assistant then and not heading up one of your divisions?"

Jackson started for a minute. "So that rumor IS true," he muttered.

"What rumor is THAT?" I asked.

Jackson sighed. "Mister McMahon, I don't have to explain the state and federal laws about privacy and disclosure when it comes to employees, do I?"

"No," I said. "But Josie's sort of a--friend." I gave a half-grin. It was the truth...well, partly.

Jackson's eyes narrowed. "I'd be careful, if I were you, Mister McMahon, of a 'friend' like Josephine Donnelly."

I blinked. I'd run her references personally, and the recommendation from Jackson-Coe, written on D. Louis Jackson's own stationary, could light several third-world countries it glowed so damned hard. What the hell was this?

"All I can say is that Miss Donnelly can sometimes be--impetuous about her personal relationships," Jackson said. "And they tend to end messily."

"HOW messily?" I pushed.

"You won't rest until you get the whole story, won't you?" Jackson asked me.

"When I want to know something...no. I won't rest."

"She seduced one of our senior VPs," Jackson said. "Broke up his marriage then began harassing him here in the office. The poor man finally had to come to the board to get some peace." Jackson stared hard at me. "You never heard that from me, if I ever hear from your mouth that I said that, I will sue you for slander."

I nodded. This fact-finding mission was for my own edification, anyways. "So, you wouldn't trust her with an ad campaign with a--"

"Oh. I never said THAT." Jackson leaned back in his Corinthian leather chair. "If you have access to her skill, and an outlet to use it, by all means, do so. But don't ever let her get closer than that."

I left Jackson's office more confused and with more questions than when I entered it. I took a long walk to sort my head out. I was attracted to a woman who was seen by her current co-workers as an insensitive, aloof paragon and by her former co-workers as a slut and a opportunistic predator. I wanted to figure out which was true...or if none of it was.

I didn't have long to wait.

I found out at SummerSlam.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane's POV of Dance The Light Of Day from the events just before and through Summerslam 2001

Don't ask me what I remember from that night. Not a whole hell of a lot. I remember going over some last minute details with Josie before my match with Vince. She had been begging me for weeks to call this off. I had a score to settle with Vince. And since it's all scripted and pre-planned, the only danger I was really in was how high of a drop I was going to try and make. Somewhere down the road of this angle, Vince started believing it. Vince really wanted to see WCW get destroyed. Vince wants to see ME beat down. Or maybe it was other involved parties, I don't know. All I know it was getting a little too legit for comfort and I was sick of it.

Besides. I'm a fucking McMahon. NOBODY beats me down without a fight. Not even my old man.

It did pique my curiosity though, that she was so hell bent against this rematch. I saw the briefest flash of panic in her eyes every time I mentioned it. I think she could even tell when I was thinking about it, because she would give me that look of fear in her eyes.

"OK, Jo," I said. "I think that's the last of it. Wish me luck." I started to smile at her, to reassure her and the laugh I started died on my lips.

She was practically in tears. "Mister Mc--Shane. Shane, PLEASE. I'm begging you. Don't do this."

 

Well, tie me up and tickle me Elmo.

 

I should be thrilled. GOD, my name sounds good on her lips. But I can't be, because she is scared. Terrified.

 

"Something bad is going to happen out there," she said. "I can feel it. Please, don't go out there. PLEASE."

I wanted to hug her to me tight. Real tight and kiss her and tell her not to be so worried. I patted her hand. "It's OK, Jo," I said, with more confidence than I felt. "I've danced this dance with Vince before. I got his number." But when she leveled those eyes at me, with worry and fear pouring out of them, I nearly gave in. I nearly had someone hand me a phone to call my father to tell him I gave up.

But, I'm a---well, YOU KNOW.

I squeezed her hand tight. "Thanks for worrying I said." How ASININE is that! I know I have some kind of feelings for this woman, and she's showing a hell of a lot of concern for my well being, and THAT is the best I can do, _thanks for worrying?_ Shit, I am pathetic.

AND stupid. I should have listened to her. It would have saved me the five inch long scar on my side.

 

The match was going pretty much to plan. There was a lot of yelling and cursing that the mikes didn't pick up. There was a lot more it did. Dad shoved me, I shoved him back. He punched me in the face, I did those chicken-wing flailing punches that every loves when I do that look stupid as hell. I was only connecting--every third one. Like usual. It really wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Dad made a good show of kneeing me in the grapefruits, I smashed him with a kendo stick and then we started pulling out the hardware.

I was getting ready to set him up for a Coast to Coast. The next thing I remembered was getting bent in half like a busted 2x4 and screaming for Jo. It was like trying to push my way through dark, murky water to get to the surface of whatever it was I was drowning in, but it was her name I was screaming when I came up for air. It was burning in pain, over and over again until I thought I had quite literally died. All I could think while I was going under was 'Jo, come save me...Jo, I'm scared, I need you....'

 

Jo, I love you.

 

"Shane?" Mom's voice snapped me out of the murk. I still couldn't remember everything but I did know that I hurt. I hurt a _lot_.

"Shane. Does it---?" Mom only asked half the question. She didn't need the rest. 

My eyes scanned the room, hoping that she would be there too. And when I saw she wasn't, I said: "Yeah. It hurts like hell."

 

Did it ever.

 

I didn't see her while I was in ICU but the minute they placed me in a private room, the parade started. First Booker and Stevie Ray, then the Filthy Animals, Kanyon, DDP and Nash, Matt, Jeff and Amy...even backstage crew whose names I barely remembered. The room looked like a flower truck exploded. I simply collected that cards from the well meaning fans and had the flowers distributed through the hospital.

Half-way through the my first day out of ICU a blonde head popped into my room. "Hey boss."

"It's about time, Jericho," I growled at one of my all time favorite employees.

 

Don't tell him that, though. He'll blackmail me with it for sure.

 

"I brought you a little present," he drawled, still standing outside.

"Chris, stop fucking around, will ya?" I winced as tried to sit up. I was in a bad mood. She hadn't come to see me. It really bummed me out.

Chris clicked his teeth together. "Now, is that anyway to talk in front of a lady?" he joked.

I hoped beyond hope at this point. Then I settled back down. It was probably my mom.

 

"Hello, Mister McMahon. How are you feeling?"

 

"Jo," I sighed. I could have cared less who was in the room to see me fucking melt into a puddle of lovesick goop. I reached my hand out to her. "Jo, you're here..." It was my dream...she was here and everything was all right now. I was giddy. She was here finally. I seemed like years has passed since the last time I had seen her face. Her worried face, with those eyes and that half-smile.

"Shhhh." She took my hand tentatively. Her hands are soft and delicate and I feel like a big buffoon next to her. "The doctors don't want you to get to excited," she said quietly.

I could give a shit what the doctors wanted. "Where have you been?" I demanded...then I remembered what Mom had said while I was in ICU, that she'd come and got me. That she'd been hurt too. "What happened?" I asked, spying the butterfly tapes on her cheek. My eyes flew to Chris. "What the fuck is that?" I barked, pointing to her face. "What happened to her face? Who the hell touched her face?"

Josie sat in the chair next to my bed. "Mister...Shane...Shane, please calm down," she said soothingly. "Don't..."

"Who. Hurt. You?" I demanded of her. There would be hell to pay...nobody touched her. Nobody got away with that shit. NOBODY. "Tell me."

"Helmsley," Chris spat. "When she came to get you out of the ring."

I blinked as some of that nightmare came back. I remember Hunter beating the shit out of me...strongly at first, then I started blacking out as the pain grew too much. Then the beating stopped, but I thought Jo being there was just a dream. I looked at her first, who was busy looking at her feet, then at Chris.

He nodded curtly.

I squeezed her hand. I let go to reach up and I touched the small white tapes. No-one I knew had ever taken a blow like that for me before. Not my father, not my sister, not my mother...no-one.

Something inside me clicked. "Does it hurt?" I asked her. "Don't lie to me, either..."

She nodded. "Yes. It hurts."

Chris murmured something about leaving us alone for a few minutes. I grabbed her hand again. "No-one touches you," I growled. "NO-ONE. You give me the word, Triple H is SO dead."

She shook her head. "You need to relax, Mister McMahon."

"FUCK that," I nearly screamed. A jab of pain reminds me that she's right. I'm gonna bust my stitches at this rate. "Who do you want me to send after him?" I ask. "Anyone you want. Jericho? The Hardys? The whole goddamned roster?"

"Nobody," she said quietly.

"No can do," I replied. "No chance...no chance in HELL Hunter gets away with this."

She nodded. "You're right. But don't want you to send anyone after Hunter. I want to go after Hunter."

I blinked. "What?"

"You are the heart and soul of this company," she said. "Triple H tried to destroy us by destroying YOU. That is NOT acceptable. I won't let him destroy what you've worked so hard to build."

I blinked again. Was I hearing this right? I just offered to send any one of twenty five two-hundred plus pound men to kick this jerk's ass for her and she tells me SHE wants to kick his ass herself?

"I will make Paul Levesque rue the day he ever laid a hand on you," she said with an intensity that shoudl have scared a sane person. Me? I thought it was incredible and beautiful and noble and a dozen other terrible cliches. "I promise."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up," I said. "YOU want to go kick Hunter's ass?"

"Yes."

"After the beating he gave you? He fucking HURT you!"

Josie blushed. "Just a little," she mumbled.

 _Just a little_ she says."No. No, no, no." I closed my eyes.

"Shane, I have a black belt in Tae Know Do. I can take him..."

"Are you---never mind, don't answer that." I ran my free hand through my hair, wincing as I did it.

"You need the nurse?" Josie said, bouncing to her feet.

"Sit down, Jo," I sighed. "Please?"

She sat but didn't take my hand again. Yeah, I was disappointed.

"...you're the--you're an important part of this organization." I can't believe how close I came to spilling the beans. "I can't let something like this go."

"Shane, please don't make this about me," she said. "It isn't about me."

"It is now," I said. "Nobody better dare lay a hand on you again. I'll make sure of it. I'll get Chris and the rest of the boys to look after you."

She snorted then. "Please. I don't need their help."

"Then do it as a favor? Or accept it as an apology?" I asked. "For not listening to you. When you begged me not to go out there."

I watched her swallow and was mesmerized by the creamy skin of her neck jumping like that. Then my eyes traveled up to her face. I winced as I finally took a good, long look at her, the injuries registering in my brain. Her right eye was several shades of blue and purple the Crayola people hadn't come up with yet and the butterfly tapes looked like they went clear across her face and into her hairline.

 

Dear God...how much more beautiful could this woman get?

 

"Josephine, I don't want you ANYWHERE alone, do you hear me?" I said in my 'I'm Shane McMahon, dammit' voice. "I want you to have Chris or one of the other guys with you ALL the time, until I get the hell out of here. Do you understand what I'm telling you? I want you to bunk with Amy or Sharm or one of the other girls until we get back to Atlanta, and we'll take it from  
there." She started to say 'no' when Dr. Kelley came in.

"Good afternoon, Mister McMahon. Miss Donnelly, you look MUCH better today."

I blushed. I think she did too. "What's the good news, doc?" I asked. "When can I go home?"

"Not for a week or so, Mister McMahon," Dr. Kelley said.

"Shane," I answered automatically. "Anyone who's seen my insides gets to call me Shane."

He chuckled. "Well, SHANE, you need a chance for your incisions to heal some more before you can travel," he said. "I took a look at your x-rays earlier, and it looks like the polymers we applied to your rib are holding nicely. You should be able to be fully up and about in about six to eight weeks."

 

"WHAT?" Josie and I yelled in unison.

 

"That was a severe break of that lower rib, Shane," Dr. Kelley said. "We have to make sure that it heals properly. Now, I've spoken with your mother and she's explained the kind of business you're involved in. I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist that you not report back to work until we can be sure that your injuries are fully healed. Eight weeks is the absolute soonest estimate I can give you."

I groaned and leaned my head back on the pillow.

"I have a good friend in Atlanta, Charlene Murrah...she's a great internal specialist and she'll take care of you with the notes I'm about to send her," Kelley added.

I nodded. Eight weeks. Eight FUCKING weeks.

"We'll have to push back all the Toy-Biz and Jax meetings," Josie mused absently.

I groaned again. We had already pushed the merchandising marketing meeting back twice because of all the problems surrounding SummerSlam.

"Or, I could take your--never mind..."

My eyes flew open. "Of COURSE you could!" I had a real-live Harvard School of Business MBA sitting in my front office. Beyond time I used her properly.

"Mister McMahon, Calm down!" I heard in stereo.

"No...you can, Jo," I continued. "You know all the people involved, you know where the contracts are...hell, you wrote the contracts." I looked at Dr. Kelley. "I just can't go to the office and walk around and stuff, right? Nothing wrong with lying in bed and telecommuting on the laptop?"

"Not for full days." Dr. Kelley frowned. "You're going to be in a lot of pain, and the medication will make you drowsy."

"And you'll need to rest," Josie added.

"Jo, hear me out," I said, my words tripping over each other. "I can't BE at work, but I need to have somebody I trust taking care of stuff. We can't let stuff sit for two months. Hell, there's stuff we can't let sit two days from now." I took a breath. "I need you to take the reins while I'm gone."

Josie blinked like a deer in headlights. "Doctor Kelly, can you excuse us a moment?" she asked.

"Of course. I'll be back later." 

As soon as he left, she turned on me. "Are you crazy?" she asked fiercely.

"Like a fox," I said. "Don't think I don't see how you are with the ad development team. You have the brains to do this. You have that damned sheepskin form Harvard School of Business. You just need to follow your nature and do what needs doing." I grabbed her hand. "You CAN do this," I said. "You are more than capable of doing this. We will go under if you say no...and I know how much your work means to you." I was playing dirty but my life was on the line here. Without WCW, I was nothing...and there wasn't anyone else I trusted enough to take care of it for me while I was gone. "Please...I'm asking. As a favor. A personal favor. Take care of my baby for me while I'm gone."

I think that did it, because she bowed her head. "I ca--"

"Don't you fucking say 'you can't'," I growled. "Don't you fucking let your fear and all that shit they fed you at Jackson-Fucking-Coe beat you."

Her eyes flew up. And I am SUCH an asshole, for opening my big mouth. But you know what, maybe someone needed to make her face this.

"Who told you?" she whispered. "WHO?"

"D. Louis Jackson, himself," I said. "When I asked him. Don't you dare run from me," I ordered, feeling her shift. "I don't believe a word he said. I didn't then, and I don't now. I believe Phil Mercer. I believe that you ARE that damned good. You aren't the Game...you WROTE the fucking Game. Now prove it. Hold the ship together, Josephine. The guys need you. The fans need you. I need you." My throat hurt, my head hurt, my chest hurt...but most of all, my heart hurt. I felt like shit for going behind her back, when I should have had the balls to ask her myself about Jackson-Coe. I should have just told her everything...

 

I should have told her 'I love you.'

 

She sat looking at her feet for a long time. "You'll regret this," she said after what seemed like a year.

"I regret not doing it sooner," I said. "Don't worry. I'll be calling to check in on you and keep you honest."

She smiled when I said that, and my heart when pitter-patter in my chest.

"I won't let you down," she said finally.

I leaned back in the bed, relaxed. "I know you won't," I said. It wasn't 'I love you...but it was a start.

 

I hoped


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane admits the 'L' Word. Events of Dance The Light Of Day from Shane's point of view.

I've learned some important lessons since SummerSlam.

Lesson number one: Never take your friends for granted. Your real friends, that is.

Chris is a real friend. He picked me up from the airport when I was released from the hospital, he checks in on me, right when it seems I'm ready to rip a wall down. He feeds me information about Josie. I was really surprised when Chris told me he and Josie had buried the hatchet, and were really, really close. I guess they both thought that keeping me safe and the company running was more important than their grade school rivalry. "What was the straw?" I asked him one night over beers. Well...he drank beer. I drank root beer because Vicoden and beer don't mix.

"The WHAT?" he asked back with a confused look on his face.

"The straw," I said again. "...that broke the camel's back, as it were? Where you and Jo aren't all at each other's throats all the time."

Chris blushed. "You getting your ass beat," he admitted. He took a long pull off his beer. "I mean, come on, Shane...LOOK at her. She's fucking miniscule compared to us. And after what she did to Hunter...."

I shrugged. "You would know," I said. I still didn't remember much.

"You don't remember, do you?" It wasn't an accusation.

"Nope." My turn to take a pull off my bottle. "I was in and out of it from the time I felt the first rib crack." I closed my eyes. "I think I remember seeing a flash of pink, and thinking 'See, I am dead...here come the angels. Wait a minute...angels are white, not pink'." When I opened my eyes to Chris's chuckle, he was searching through my videotapes. He picked one up and slipped it into the VCR. "Dude, I thought we were watching the ballgame..." I knew what it was, of course. I'd been avoiding watching it. I didn't know if I could handle seeing it.

"This is more important." He grabbed the remote and hit the play button. He would fast-forward, then stop then fast-forward some more. Finally he got to the spot he wanted. Right as Hunter was lifting that sledgehammer.

I winced, looking at myself in the ring. Jesus, I looked like shit. I looked half dead already. I watched Vince, storming on the ring apron, but not really making any move to come in there and get me out. I couldn't blame him. I mean, Hunter with a sledgehammer? I sure as hell wouldn't want get in that ring, if I had a choice in the matter.

I hear the gasps of the crowd, the quick pan of the camera focusing in on Josie. She slides into the ring just as my music hits and she's got that kendo stick in one hand like she's supposed to, like she knows what she's doing. I can barely hear Hunter's scoff...

But that kick. That kick comes out of nowhere. One second she's staring him down, then BAM! Hunter's clutching the Helmsley family jewels and that kendo stick's connecting with his head. I swear that sledgehammer weighs more than she does, but the way she tosses it like a piece of paper, off to the side? Damn. I had no idea how strong she is.

She's standing there and I can't hear what she's saying, but that little move of her hand, that near dead perfect imitation of Rocky's 'Bring it', says it all. After that, I can't follow her. It's like a scene out of the Matrix. She's 'The One', moving in ways I've never seen a person move before. Deadly, destructively beautiful. She mixes fluidly hypnotic moves with blisteringly devastating kicks and punches and Hunter, as good as he is, looks like a rookie. After she kicks him out of the ring, she drops to her knees next to me.

I swallow hard. I look like hell. The way she strokes my hair, the way she strokes my face. I reach up and touch my cheek. I remember that...I remember that feather light touch on my skin. I remember calling for her 'Jo...don't leave me...' I'm hypnotized, mesmerized by the images on the screen.

My heart gets stuck in my throat as Hunter breaks free of all the guys on the floor and gets back into the ring. My fists clench as he pulls her up by her hair and spins her around to face him. And that slap. You could hear the echo...probably all the way to Los Angeles. Of COURSE he opened her up with that slap. She was so close, she couldn't get away, it was a wind up from hell. I'm still amazed that she stayed on her feet after the impact.

It's the feral look of rage on her face that gets me. She just took a legit shot from the goddamned GAME. She took a shot that would have floored me, floored Chris, floored guys twice her size, and she took it. She took it and she's looking to give as good as she got. STILL.

When he grabbed her by the throat and lifted her off the ground, I was almost out of my seat. When she kicked him in the head, then proceeded to beat on him until he couldn't stand, I was relived. After it all sunk in, after I fully comprehended the tableau that was laid out before me...

 

I cried.

 

I felt every blow she took, every slap, every kick. I felt it all on me and I felt the tears streaming down my face. I didn't deserve to have anyone take that kind of beating for me. NO-ONE had ever taken that kind of beating for ME.

Chris nodded. "Yeah," he said. "You're not the only one who did that." He hit stop, then rewind. "After that...well. She can command my respect, any day. She deserves it."

I sighed, then winced. It's an automatic response. I breathe, I ache. Pain reminds me I'm alive. "Chris...I think I'm in love."

"I'm touched, Shane-O, but I don't swing that way."

I needed that comical break. "Not you, asshole. HER. Jo."

Chris gave me a long look. "No Shit, Sherlock," he snorted."When?" 

"Since that business dinner," I admitted. "Probably just a crush then, but now...I'm in love." I bowed my head. "You have any idea how much it hurt just now? Watching her take that beating? Watching Hunter lay his hands on her?" I was clenching my fists again. "I'm gonna fucking kill that son of a bitch," I muttered. "Nobody lays a hand on her like that..."

"Stand in line, boss," Chris said darkly. "You're not the only one who wants a piece of Triple H."

I looked over at Chris. "Chris...take care of her for me? While I'm out?"

"Done," Chris said. "I promise, nothing's going to happen to her while I'm around, Shane. Nothing. I swear."

 

Once again, jackass me. Should have paid more attention to Chris's attitude. Hindsight is a bitch.

 

Lesson number two: When you want something done right, let a woman do it.

Yeah, yeah, yeah...up yours too, buddy.

 

Josie and I were in near constant communication once I got back to Atlanta. I had a fax machine and my laptop on, and I closed deals via e-mail and fax. Josie had several webcams set up in the main conference room, the ad department and in our offices, so that I could keep an eye on things. I got a better handle on things in the company while I was out than I ever had spending ten to fifteen hours in the office. I can't be everywhere at once. The cameras can. I may keep this whole telecommute thing going even after I get back.

Meetings mean nothing without meaningless paperwork, and deals mean nothing without signed contracts. Part of Josie's tasks are to bring me all the contracts that have to have my signature on them, so she can witness them and get them back to our lawyers. It started as just once a day drop-off the paperwork and sign. I was still in bed and the private nurse my mom had hired to take care of me made it very clear she wasn't too happy with me doing any kind of work. She also made it clear she was looking to make herself Mrs. McMahon. Or at least, Mrs. McMahon's checking account.

After about two weeks, after I convinced Mom that I was OK on my own and Dr. Murrah agreed that I was healing well and all I would need was a cane to get around the condo and an aide to help out during the day, I was free to start laying out my plan. My master plan of seduction.

 

OK, maybe not SEDUCTION. At least, 'I like you a lot, let's go on a date'.

 

I always made sure that there was some kind of food waiting when she came over to drop stuff off. Once she was sure I was OK, and wasn't overtiring myself, we would sit over take-out Italian or Chinese, going over different details that we needed to make sure this deal or that did or didn't go through.

I noticed the tiny little cracks in the walls of her defenses. After about three or four evenings, she kicked her shoes off. The next night, she kicked her shoes off and had a glass of wine. A couple of days after that, complaining of a headache, she pulled her hair out of its ponytail and shook it free, letting it bounce loose and unfettered the rest of the time she was there.

Wow.

She has gorgeous hair. It shimmers and it's about twelve different shades of blonde. I didn't even KNOW there were that many shades of blonde...and each one of them is beautiful.

I beg her to stay and watch DVDs with me. We ended up on the couch, shooting the breeze until I fall asleep. It was hell letting her go home. I wanted her to stay with me. I felt safe when she was near. Josie was my guardian angel; as long as she was there, she could banish the demon in my nightmares, vanquish the dragon of my fear. Oh yeah, I'm Shane McMahon, and I got the brainpower and the money...but I'm scared of my own shadow. I'm terrified and I need her. I've been praying to a God I didn't think I believed in to let this woman give me a chance, give me a sign, some sort of way into her heart.

 

My sign arrives: she tucks me into bed, because I whine like a little kid.

 

"You're acting like a spoilt brat," she said critically, with that snap to her voice I had grown to love.

"I AM a spoilt brat," I teased back. "Besides, didn't you promise that if I was exceedingly bad, you'd tuck me in and read me a bedtime story?"

I knew she was surprised that I had remembered that comment. Of course I remembered it. It was during our first road trip, on our first show together. It was the first time my stomach did flip-flops at something she said.

Josie sat on the edge of the bed. "You're right...I did promise and you ARE being bad. And I keep my promises." She pulled the blankets up to my chest. "There once was a bad little boy named Shane O'Mac, who never knew when to quit and ALWAYS talked back, so one day, he wanted to play with the little girl across the way, but she didn't particularly like smart-asses and instead he ended up with a smack and whack and forty lashes across his back."

I was too tired to laugh. "You're a funny lady, you know that?" I yawned.

"I promised a story...I didn't promise what kind of a story."

I chuckled, all the while getting lost in those gorgeous eyes, eyes that were hovering between gold and honey at the moment. Her amber hair rested along one shoulder, adding more of a glow to her luminous face. She's so lovely, I can even forget about the one marring feature that catches in my throat. That damned scar--that scar Hunter left her with. I'm too caught up in how beautiful she is to remember that I want to kill Triple H for touching her.

"Good night, Mister McMahon." Josie moved to stand up, but I laid my hand on hers, stopping her. Her hand is tiny and warm in mine and like I did in the hospital, I feel like a big oaf next to this ethereal angelic girl.

"Jo...I just wanted to say...I had a great time tonight." I was so out of it, I'm surprised as hell that I got the words out. "You--you mean a lot to me. Really."

 

It wasn't 'I love you'...but it was a start. I hoped.

 

I could tell she was uncomfortable. "Please, don't run," I pleaded with her. "I won't hurt you, I promise..."

She swallowed hard. "You're the one who should be worried about getting hurt," she said. "You know what Jackson said about me."

"D. Louis Jackson is full of shit," I said. I even managed to stay calm when I did. "Whatever happened at Jackson-Coe...that's the past, Jo. It only has power over you if you let it."

Josie pulled away. "I should go." She gave my hand a gentle squeeze. "Get some rest."

"See you tomorrow?" I begged. I was fighting the sleep again, but I wanted to be able to hear her, see her, have her image burned in my skull before I dropped off.

"Yes...but only if you have some more of that barbequed chicken thing waiting."

"Will do. G'night, Jo."

"Good night, Mister McMahon."

 

I spent more time in physical therapy, pushing myself hard, trying to get back up to speed. I wanted to get back to work. I NEEDED to get back to work. I'd been telecommuting most of the day, I was walking around the condo without the cane and my pain medications had been tempered and cut down. I felt better than I did before SummerSlam. Dr. Murrah was impressed.

"I think I can let you go back to work part time next week, Shane," she said after giving me my weekly once-over. "Half days only, I think. Go into work around noon, out by five...NO LATER...for the first week."

I promised, trying not to bounce like a little kid. Hell, I'm bouncing. Haven't been able to do that in a while. I was going back to work. FINALLY. Where I could see Josie all day long again. Now that her defenses were down, I could take her to lunch, take her to dinner. We could have long meetings at my desk over Thai. I knew my eyes were dreamy at the prospect, because Dr. Murrah looked at me strangley.

"Are you feeling all right, Shane? You look--fuzzy."

"Oh, I'm just peachy, Doc...just peachy."

 

When I walked into WCW Central Monday, it felt great. I saw Henry, the afternoon receptionist, nearly have a heart attack when he saw me. "Shane?"

"Whazzup, Henry?" I said, with a grin and bounce to my step I hadn't felt in two months. "Do me a favor, don't tell anybody I'm here yet, OK?"

"Sure thing, Mister McMahon," he replied.

"You've been talking with Josie again," I said critically.

"Sorry, Shane," Henry said.

 

I LOVED the looks of shock and surprise I got when I walked in the elevator, when I got out of the elevator, as I walked down the halls of my domain. I could hear the buzz zipping down the hallways and corridors behind me...

 

Shane O'Mac...was back


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last part of the retelling of Dance The Light Of Day from Shane's POV.

My first couple of weeks back was hell. Not because of pain or anything, but because I couldn't be in the office full time yet. I was still using the cane the first week on and off-mostly off in my office, much to Josie's chagrin. I didn't sit at my desk and holler instructions to her. I went bounding over to her desk and planted myself on the edge. She would always shoo me away, tell me to stop pestering her, but I could tell she was glad to have me there.

I spent most of my time in the office thinking. Mostly about Josie. Having her less than fifteen feet away got my gears going again. I could smell her perfume in the air of the office, I could hear that gorgeous lilting voice, her unique little half Southern-half Midwestern drawl with the barest hint of Bostonian twang that just did things to my insides every man dreams about. 

I also though about how much this company owed her. She'd done everything I've ever asked of her...including holding the ship together in my absence. We were in great financial shape, we were starting to create our own identity and more importantly, the FANS were starting to rebrand us as WCW. We weren't the interlopers anymore; we were standing toe-to-toe with ol' Vince. And YES, my father is terrified of competition. More importantly, competition he can't control.

It took a week of hashing things out with the lawyers, Mom and the rest of the board. Josie is right. I can't continue to hold all the reins to everything in the company. If anything, nearly getting killed proved that. While she's out hammering away at marketing and advertising, Mom and I were restructuring the Board of Directors of World Championship Wrestling. It was time for the official break--the moment where we finally threw off the last tatters of WWF and became our own entity.

Mom flew down from Stamford to go over the final details herself. It felt great to pick her up from the airport in my own car, to carry her luggage and put it in the car. I never realized how such little things could make me so damned happy.

"You look wonderful, Shane," she said to me in her beautiful voice.

"Thanks, Mom," I said, blushing. After we got back to the condo and Mom got settled in, I drove her to the office. As usually, everything was bustling and rushing. It was Wednesday, and the day after a taping is always crazy at WCW Central.

We found Josie up in Neil's office. They still fought, but it was more a custom than actual 'I hate you' fighting. Today's discussion was more along the lines of speculation: Josie thought that we should have a string of theme restaurants like WWF NY, and Neil thought she was crazy.

"Neil, think of it this way," she was saying. "What's the next new show in the works?"

"The weekly recap thing...what are we calling it again...Downtown?" Neil replied.

"Yeah, Downtown. Now...wouldn't it be cool to tape Downtown from one of OUR restaurants? Yeah, at first it's going to be copycat, copycat-until we tape from LA, Houston. Calgary?"

"CALGARY?"

"Alberta, Canada," Josie intoned, a dead-on Lance Storm impression. "Oh COME ON, we all know I'm a Lance mark."

"Why Calgary? It's all the way up there..."

"And some of the greatest wrestling in our business, past and present come from or were trained there. And what has Vince done to honor that? JACK SHIT. We need to tap into our Canadian roots, Neil. We drop a wrestling themed ANYTHING in the middle of Calgary, we are in."

I leaned over to Mom. "NOW, do you see why I want to do this?" I asked.

Mom nodded. "She's brilliant, Shane," she said.

"Hey, Einstein," I called out, "isn't it time for lunch?"

"Shut up, Mister McMahon," she said without turning around.

"And how do you know it's really me?" I asked, trying to sound like Vince.

"Because I'm a witch and I have evil powers," she said, and moved to say something a little witchier until she turned and saw my Mom. "OH! Mrs. McMahon! I--I'm terribly sorry! I didn't..."

"Relax, Josephine," she said. "I'm here to see you just as much as to see my son." Mom strode over and took Josie's hands in her own. "You look wonderful, dear."

Josie smiled, then her eyes wandered over to me, filled with questions.

Me...I was just reveling in the sight of my mom greeting the woman I hoped would be her daughter-in-law someday. "Some stuff Mom needs to go over," I said, hoping I sounded cryptic enough.

"Actually, Shane, I'd love to take Josephine out to lunch and talk some more about this wonderful idea she has," my mom replied. "I'm intrigued by this restaurant idea of yours. Does it have a name yet?"

Josie did something I've never seen her do before: blush twelve shades of red in under six seconds. "Um...The Cage," she mumbled. "I've just been toying with the idea in my head...once an 'ad man', y'know."

Mom shook her head. "I think you've got the germ of a brilliant idea. We'll talk more over lunch. Shane won't mind letting you go for a couple of hours."

I frowned. "Wait a minute," I started to protest.

Mom laughed. "I'm sorry, dear...did you think you were invited?" She grinned at me. "You've got much too much work to catch up on to fool around at lunch. Come along, Josephine. You can show me what Atlanta REALLY looks like."

"You can call me 'Josie', Mrs. McMahon."

"Not until you start calling me 'Linda'," Mom said. She gave me a wink as they left.

 

Moms always know, don't they?

 

Didn't keep it from being the longest hour and a half of my life. I had whittled my way through the stack of papers on my desk just as Mom came through the door.

 

"You girls have a nice lunch?" I asked archly.

"Shane, she's incredible!" Mom exclaimed. "Germ of an idea, my foot! That girl has WCW's roadmap for the next five years laid out in her head already and it's brilliant. The restaurants were just a start." Mom grinned at me slyly. "How would you like an office in Calgary, or Tokyo?"

I jumped.

"She wants to make World Championship Wrestling just that--WORLD." Mom sat down in the chair in front of my desk. "She has visions for this business no-one's even thought of tapping before, ideas to make us mainstream without sacrificing the actual sport. Shane, I had doubts about your plans before. I thought it was love blinding you. I was wrong."

I smiled so wide, my face hurt. "You're going to OK it?" I asked eagerly.

"Oh, absolutely, and I'll make sure that Stephanie and your father sign it as well." Mom gave me that smile, the one she whips out when she knows she's going to make Vince do something he's NOT going to like. "Josie Donnelly is too precious a commodity to waste answering your phones, Shane. When do we make the announcement?"

I leaned back. "I'd like to hold off on that for a couple of weeks yet, Mom," I said. "I want to get back in the swing of the office, regain my bearings..."

"Put her off her guard," Mom intoned. "Don't think I don't know what you're trying to do, Shane Brandon McMahon. This isn't a game, this is serious business."

"I know that, Mom...that's why we need to take this slowly. I want to make sure every 'i' is dotted and every 't' is crossed. I don't want one single loophole available for her to slide out of this. When we make the offer, I want it to be ironclad tight."

"You'll think she'll turn it down?"

"No. I KNOW she'll turn it down." I looked past Mom and to the door of my office. "There's a lot of stuff Jo's been through, Mom. A lot of pain that she doesn't want anyone to know about, but it's there, just hovering over the surface. She tries to hide her ambition, tries to push her ideas off to other people to let them get the credit she deserves, but doesn't want. I want to break her of that. And I need some time to do it."

Mom nodded. "I understand, Shane," she said. "You love her very much, don't you?"

I nodded. Like I'm gonna try to lie to my mother on this one. "I do, Mom. I love her a lot."

"She doesn't know that either, does she?"

"She will," I smiled to myself. "She will."

 

I just didn't realized HOW soon after she was going to find out.

I was hoping for a couple of weeks.

I got six hours.

 

When Chris called and talked me into going out, I was kind of pissed off. I had wanted to ask Jo out to dinner. Then I though for a second. Chris was throwing a party. Where Chris was, Jo was usually a step or two behind. I go to Chris's party, I see Jo. PERFECT.

I swung by Dr. Murrah's office to get my official clean-bill-of-health. I could hardly sit still on the examining table while she read my x-rays.

"I have to admit, I'm impressed," she said finally, bringing the film over to me. She held it up to the light. "You can barely see where the fractures were."

I nodded, hoping it would make her move faster.

Dr. Murrah put the film on a nearby counter. "Your lung capacity is back to normal, your fractures are completely knitted. I think I can safely say that this is our last visit together, Shane."

"YES!" I practically jumped with the news. Nine weeks. After nine long, agonizing, drawn-out, lonely weeks - one in the hospital in San Jose, eight in Atlanta--Shane O' Mac was back for good and with a vengeance.

"I have to admit, I'll miss our twice a week get togethers," she said.

"Give me a call, Doc, I'll get you in ringside at any show you want," I said.

She smiled at me. "The boys would love it," she said. After eight weeks, it wasn't just poke at me and talk about nothing during PT. Dr. Murrah was the mother of two great kids, Mike and Josh, and they like wrestling. "But giving me tickets..."

"It's a way for me to see my favorite doc on the outside," I said. And I meant it. I liked Dr. Murrah. I liked her lot. And I OWED her a lot. Some other doctors might have been impressed with my name...or my money...and let me get away with cutting corners in my rehabilitation. Dr. Murrah kicked my ASS for two months and I feel better than I have in years. When they announce me in the ring NEXT time, it's going to be 'From Greenwich, Connecticut, weighing in at a ripped and sexy two-fifteen, Shane McMahon!'.

"Don't make me get their hopes up," she warned me.

"Doc, if there's one thing you've taught me, it's follow-ups are a GOOD thing." We both chuckled at that.

She smiled at me. "Since you're not my patient anymore, you CAN call me 'Charlotte'..."

"But what's the freaking fun in that?" I hopped off the table. "Don't be stranger, Doc, ya'll hear?" I said in my best Atlanta drawl.

"Take care, Shane...and I mean that." The iron in her voice stopped me at the door. "I put way too much work getting you back to 100% to watch you let some other idiot beat you to a pulp."

"Yes, ma'am." I bounced out the door and headed home. I took a shower, headed to the closet and started picking out my clothes for the party. I started with a simple white shirt and jeans, then went to a blue short-sleeved shirt. I looked in the mirror, and I looked good...but I didn't want to look GOOD. I wanted to look HOT. I wanted to look so hot that a certain blonde wouldn't mind dancing with me a few times, boss or no boss. I didn't want her to see 'Shane McMahon, owner of WCW'. I wanted her to see 'Shane McMahon, MAN.' Shane McMahon, the guy who's got it for you so bad he has to pinch himself when your back is turned to keep himself from sliding his hand down your back. The guy who has visions of you in nothing but a dreamy smile next to him in bed. The guy who wants you so damn bad, he does crazy things.

And if I want to look THAT hot.....I gotta wear brown.

Don't ask by WHY that's the color that seems to do it for the ladies, but I wear brown in a club...brown turtleneck, brown jeans, brown shirt, whatever...I have a dance partner for the rest of the night. I don't know why it works but it works, and dammit, I'm gonna use it to my advantage. I grab the thin brown turtleneck I wore when I announced the purchase of WCW, and my dark brown Levis and put them on. Throw on some Italian loafers, run a brush through my hair, put on some cologne and I'm good to go.

 

Limelight is bouncing and loud when I get there. Chris managed to get us the whole lower section, just by using sheer numbers. I see a fair amount of talent in the room; Lance Storm and his wife, The Filthy Animals, Kaynon, staffers from the main office. Chris wasn't kidding when he said this was a 'welcome back' party. I take one step in, and Jeff Hardy spies me.

"Yo, the guest of honor is here," he called out. "Hey, man, how's it hangin'?"

"It hangs pretty good, Jeffy. Whazzup, gang?" I ask, a huge grin on my face

"SHANE!" They all scream, and there's applause and hollering. It feels SO good to be back where I belong, with my wrestlers and my staff...my FAMILY. I'm walking around, saying hi to people I haven't seen in two months or more.

 

Then I see HER.

 

She's flanked by Chris and Amy, and I almost don't recognize her. Her hair is down for one thing, and looks blonder. She's got this gorgeous peach sweater on that ends just above her navel, and I lick my lips every time a peep of her stomach comes into view. And she's wearing tight blue jeans, the kind that show off the curve of her ass just right without being trashy looking.

Chavo drags Jo out on the dance floor and I watch them move. If I wasn't in lust ten second ago, I was NOW. She moves just as fluidly doing the cha-cha as she does doing a waltz, and I am so hooked on watching her dance. Every so often, I can see her peek at me, and I can tell she likes what she sees. I slammed down the last of my drink and walked over to them as soon as 'Cup of Life' started.

"Mind if I cut in?" I said to Chavo.

Chavo smirked. "Here ya go, boss."

Josie sputtered. "You think I'm gonna do this, Mister--"

"You call me Mister McMahon tonight, you're fired," I growled. "Then'll you'll HAVE to call me Shane." I took her by the hand, pulled her right into me. "You know you want it," I added mimicking the song's lyrics

"Here we go," she said.

Now, I never said I was a great dancer. I can shake my ass when needed, I do a pretty decent waltz, but I didn't think I could handle some of the moves Jo and Chavo were laying out on the floor.

Josie is God's definition of a great dancer. She made me look GOOD. I would have some vague idea of what I wanted her body to do on the floor, and she did it and made it look good.

The groove was about getting as close to your partner without needless contact, and I was doing a good job of that...until somebody decided there was no such thing as 'needless' contact. She slid a hand down my back and up again. I nearly passed out, it felt so fucking good. 'Oh, we're gonna play like this, are we?' I thought. 'Two can play that game...' I rocked her hips in  
time with the music, making sure my fingertips barely brushed her ass.

I don't even know WHAT we were doing. All I know is that everyone on the floor, everyone in the club, was watching us, and I was getting more and more turned on by the second. At one point, Jo had her leg wrapped around my hip, I had one hand right in the curve of her back and did some move I saw watching Dirty Dancing with Stephanie a billion times. When she swung back up, I made sure she hit my chest, and that she hit it HARD.

"Give yet?" I asked.

"In your dreams," she shot back.

I got it. I definitely began to understand the concept of the tango being a stylized bullfight. Her arms locked when I wanted then to; she turned into pure satin when I didn't. How I didn't trip over either of our feet was a miracle. I spun Josie so that her back was against my front. I didn't care that she could feel how hard I was for her. I was quickly getting to the point where  
I might have to rip her clothes off and fuck her on the dance floor. And when she shimmied down, then up...Christ. I forgot how to breathe. I pulled her back around before she could do any real damage...well, any VISIBLE damage. When the song ended, we moved to part ways, when IT came on.

 

Pink.

 

AEROSMITH's Pink.

 

I LOVE that fucking song.

 

That song has the ability to reduce me to a shivering puddle of erotic putty. The second that harmonica kicks in, I'm hard and I stay hard, and it sure as hell doesn't go away by itself. These days, that song is even MORE charged, considering what you-know-who's favorite color is. Hell, when I can't help myself and jack off to Jo's image in my head, GUESS what song is my private soundtrack?

She takes one look at the bar, and curses a blue streak about Chris setting her up. I beg her to at least finish the dance first before she goes over to kill him. I half-waltz her around the dance floor, trying not to get too close to her. I don't want her to feel what she's doing to my body, and I certainly don't want to REACT to her being that close, coupled with the song of my erotic dreams.

 

And Fate, that bitch, makes her move that much closer.

 

"You-you may not want to do that," I whispered in her ear.

"Why not?" she asked, in this sexy half-whisper that was setting me to shivering.

"Because you might just find out HOW much I love this song," I admitted. 'And how much I like YOU', I added in my head.

Just because Fate IS such a bitch, Josie did just the opposite. "My goodness," she said as she met up with something rather formidable against her stomach. "Is that all my fault...Shane?"

 

I lost it.

 

I completely--totally--irrevocably--lost it.

 

She picked the exact moment...right as that Joe Perry guitar solo fades out...the 'climax' of the song, as it were, to press that much closer...and say my name, in that devastating, sexy drawl.

 

I kissed her.

 

Correction: I DEVOURED her with my mouth.

 

I could feel my own lips bruising as I kissed her. It wasn't gentle. There wasn't any soft little peck, then a deep, more soulful kiss. I slammed my mouth on hers, and it was already open. My tongue was already exploring her mouth...her sweet mouth that tasted faintly like gin and lemons and something sweeter. My hands were already down her body, cupping her ass, pulling her ever closer. I needed her, like I needed air, like I needed food, I wanted to be enveloped in her, right at that moment, right at and every other moment for the rest of my life.

 

Then it hit me.

 

We were still in the middle of the fucking dance floor.

 

EVERYBODY we knew was watching us make out in the middle of the fucking dance floor.

 

And Josie was absolutely right: Chris, that bastard, just set us up. BIG TIME.

 

I grabbed her by the hand. "We need to talk. NOW."

"Let go of--" she sputtered.

I turned and used the one line that would guarantee her silence for at least a minute: "Josie...SHUT-the hell-UP!"

"Let go of me, you big JERK!" she screamed at me when we got outside.

"Get in the car," I growled.

"NO."

I was SO not in the mood for this. "Jo, get in the fucking car," I growled again.

"Mister McMahon..."

I sighed and just because I could and just because I wanted to show her that THIS time, she couldn't argue or cajole her way out of it, I picked her up and threw her over my shoulder.

"PUT ME DOWN!! GODAMMIT, SHANE, YOU'RE GOING TO HURT YOUR-OOOF!"

It was tough, juggling the clicker to get the door open and throw her in the Mercedes. Once Jo was in, I locked the car, so that she couldn't get out. I opened my door with the key, then started the car. Even as pissed as I was, I noticed that she wasn't concerned with her own safety--just that I was going to hurt myself again.

"What the hell you do think you're doing?" she demanded.

"Shut up. I'm driving," I told her brusquely. I needed to think, and I needed Jo where I could get my hands on her once I was done. The car was the perfect means to achieve that end.

"Mister--"

I shut the car off. "You," I said incredulously, "just stood there with your tongue down my throat for at least three minutes. I think I can safely say we're well past the 'Mister McMahon' phase, don't you?" I started the car again and peeled out of the parking lot.

I had no idea where we were going. I drove along Peachtree Street for a while, bopped us on and off the interstate...I think we finally ended up somewhere near Decatur, before I started driving back towards the main city. This was NOT how I wanted to do this. I wanted the same chances that Chris had, the chances to see Josie with her guard down, the chances to go to the  
movies and talk and the phone and be NORMAL people, if just for a little while. I know I had seen her at her most relaxed with ME in my condo during the last couple of weeks of visiting, and that she was more relaxed in the office...but I wanted the kind of relationship she had with Chris. I saw how the two of them were together. Hell, they held HANDS! When a select group of people was around, she would let her defenses down, smile that beautiful smile that had haunted me for months. Smack Chris around a little. Let him hug her, hold her. I wanted that. I wanted ALL of that, and more.

I didn't care if she wanted to stay friends with Chris. I wanted to be the one she went home to. I wanted to be the one she snuggled next to at night. I wanted to be the one there to banish her bad dreams. I wanted to be the one who loved her, more than anyone else.

"Where are we going?"

She sounded a little frightened, and my heart ached. I must have been frowning or something. I tried to relax my face, but my voice was still too harsh when I answered: "I don't know." I jabbed a button to power up the CD player. Marc Cohn filled the interior of the car. When we were on the road once, I heard this song coming from the headset on her CD player. The set had slipped off her ears while she was asleep, and I carefully slipped it off her neck and around my ears. I made a CD of all the songs I heard...to remind me of her.

"That's--I love this song," Josie said, amazement in her voice.

"I know you do," I said. I saw a quiet little rest area, wooded and serene looking. I pulled off the road.

"Where are we?"

"I told you. I don't know. I just wanted to get away from there...get you someplace where you couldn't run from me anymore." I turned the engine off, but keeping the power on so the music could continue to play. I leaned my head back on the headrest as closed my eyes. I could hear her breathing, slightly panicked, and I could almost feel her trembling.

"Why do you run from me, Jo?" I asked plaintively. "I love you so bad I do crazy things, and I don't know how to make you stand still six seconds to even LISTEN to me." 'I Will Love You' had just come on the speakers, and I didn't think I could have planned a better soundtrack to accompany what I was about to say.

"Love? When had that happened? And was it coincidence that Fisher had just started playing on the stereo?"

"The moment I laid eyes on you," I replied. "I just didn't know it yet. And YES...it's a coincidence."

"I--I don't know what to say."

"Yes, you do," I said. "Say you love me back."

"I can't," she whispered. "It's not right."

I groaned, the words a knife in my heart. "Do you know how I spend my nights, MISS Donnelly?" I asked her. "I think of ways to get to you. What can Shane do to make you mad. 'Cause that's the only way I can get a response out of you. For anything. Piss you off, so I can see that fire in your eyes, see the vein in your neck throb...then I think about how that vein would feel under my mouth, while we're making love on the beach somewhere." I groaned again, fighting the tears in my eyes. "I'm so crazy in love, I don't know what to do anymore. Hell, I should quit...you've been running WCW more than I have on the last three months."

I opened my eyes and turned my head enough to look at her. She had her head down, her feet pulled up on my expensive leather bucket seat. She sat there studying her knees. The sight nearly broke my heart. I'd heard the description from Chris enough times, but to see it...God, that hurt. "Jo...Josie, talk to me."

"What you want me to say?"

"I already told you. Say 'Shane, I love you'."

"I told you...I can't do that."

"Why? You do it so many other ways. What's the difference?"

Her eyes were the only things that moved when she looked at me.

"Only a complete NUTJOB or someone totally in LOVE would willingly jump into a ring with Hunter Hearst Helmsley when he's got both a steel chair AND a sledgehammer at his disposal," I chuckled. At her look, I admitted, "I finally watched the tape. You--you were like an avenging angel in there, y'know. You were gorgeous. And since I know you're not insane--"

"I'm starting to doubt that assessment..."

"I figured that maybe...JUST maybe...you could maybe be in love with me a little bit."

Jo sighed. "Damn it all, Christopher," she muttered

I smiled. "Hey, he's your best friend..."

"Well...yeah." She swallowed hard. "But, so are you."

I blinked. THAT I wasn't expecting.

"You...tell me, I look pretty...all the time. You tease me. You make me eat lunch and take the day off to go shopping. You even buy my favorite chocolate..."

"That you promptly throw away..."

"Actually...I stopped doing that months ago," Josie admitted. "I just take the candy and chuck the box in the pail to piss you off."

I laughed. I laughed so hard I thought I would break my ribs again. That was the most typical-why the hell hadn't I thought of that BEFORE?! "Baby, we were made for each other."

Josie shook her head. "Shane, this just isn't DONE..."

I groaned as I felt that familiar surge of desire rush through me at the sound of my name on her lips. My name sounded so erotic, so goddamned sexy, and I didn't know how much longer I could hold out before I grabbed her and ripped her clothes off mid-syllable.

"What? Is it the ribs? I TOLD you, you shouldn't have picked me..."

"Do you have ANY idea what it does to me when you say my name?" I asked her. I leaned closer. "I swear to God, by the time you get to the 'n', I'm--affected. It makes me want you so bad, it hurts." I hoped I sounded seductive enough...God knows I wanted to seduce her. I wanted to make her SCREAM. I couldn't wait to make her scream.

She turned her head away from me. Like she didn't want to see the lust built up in my eyes, like she couldn't handle seeing the lust...like she didn't trust herself not to react to that lust, built up in my eyes.

I traced one finger along her arm. I liked the way she jumped, she way she shivered, the way she whimpered, when I touched her. "Josie...Jo, I love you..."

"You have no idea who I am to love me," she said.

"So give me that chance," he said. I begged. I managed to get one of her hands in mine. Her hand is so tiny, so elegant, like the rest of her. Soft and smooth in my hand, and once again, I felt like a giant bumpkin next to her. "Look, this isn't gratitude for saving my life. It isn't thanks for being there all these weeks, taking care of me... godammit, Jo, that's the point. You saved me...in so many ways. Look at me..."

"I can't."

"Why now?"

"Because if I do," she whispered, "we can't go back...I'm scared, Shane."

"I'm scared, too...scared I'm gonna lose the best thing I ever had." I reached one hand over to stroke her face, run my fingers through her hair. "Baby, I love you...I want to be with you. Let me."

"I--Shane, it's not you...it was never you, it's me...I--" She took a couple of deep breaths, trying to fight the tears, until she lost. "Damn you, Shane McMahon," she wept.

I grabbed her and pulled her into my arms. I sat her on my lap, held her while she cried, let her bury her head in the curve of my neck where it met my shoulder. I stroked her hair, her baby soft hair, cooed to her, told her how much I loved her, told her to let it all out, I would take care of her now...and kept my hands away from any remotely erogenous zone. She didn't need me groping her. She needed comfort, and I was more than willing to give that to her.

When she was done crying, when she took a deep breath again to steady her nerves, when she wiped her tears off on the back of her hand, when she looked at me with those glorious hazel eyes, the gold flecks in them glowing--I, Shane Brandon McMahon, owner of World Championship Wrestling, part owner of World Wrestling Federation Entertainment, the 'Heir Apparent' to sports entertainment---

 

...was 100% hopelessly in love. I thought I was hopeless before...now I KNEW I was hopeless.

Josie clung to me a moment longer. I took a deep breath, burning her sweet smell in my nose, sweet like Christmas cookies in the oven, all vanilla and almonds from her hair, a flowery perfume decorating her neck.

"I want to give you what you want, Shane," she said.

I smiled. "You got the first word and the last word right," I said, tweaking her nose.

"You really are persistent..."

"You know the answer to that..."

"Shane--"

"I LOVE when you call me that."

"I...I wish...oh God, I'm so confused."

"You're not the only one, babe," I admitted. I leaned my head against hers. "If I sold the company, would it help?"

"It might," Josie admitted. "It's the employer-employee thing, Shane. I learned my lesson the hard way...please believe me when I say that. I KNOW it can't be done...it's not proper...it's not RIGHT."

I smiled, the opening I was waiting for all night showing itself. "Fine...you 're fired."

"WHAT!?"

"For the next five minutes, you no longer work for WCW, an extension of WWFE Inc., and I, Shane Brandon McMahon, am no longer the person who signs your paycheck." I leaned back in my seat, dropping my arms at my sides. "Go to town."

"I'm fired..."

"For another four minutes and forty-five seconds, yes."

And to my eternal delight, Josie grabbed my by the shirt, dragged me close and kissed me.

HARD.

She threaded her fingers through my hair. I know she could feel the faint growl in the back of my throat. GOD her lips were so soft, and they were doing things to me I hadn't even dreamed of. She dropped a line of kisses along my jaw that had me panting, and when she tugged at my ear with her lips...I nearly passed out. She tasted me the way I tasted her earlier when she got back to my mouth. She ran the tip of her tongue along my bottom lip and I gasped, allowing her into my mouth. She took her time exploring my mouth and with her fingers running through my hair, I was on the verge of a meltdown. She looks all innocent and sweet, but she's WAY more experienced than I expected. I came looking to be the teacher, but I was the one who got schooled.

Not to say I wasn't busy myself. I was taking the same kind of liberties...letting my hands slide up her bare back, tracing the curves I found. I dipped one finger just underneath the waistband of her jeans to stroke the soft skin there, and she purred like a kitten...and THAT was a turn on. While she explored my jaw with her lips, MY lips were free and dropped kisses anywhere I could reach: her hair, her cheeks, her forehead. I was trembling having her his close, how good she smells, how sweet she tastes. This was better than anything fantasy I had dreamed up. For once, I could definitely be accused of setting my goal a little lower than necessary.

"How much longer?" she panted.

"Mmmm...does it matter, babe?" I was nuzzling my nose in her neck, when she dropped the bombshell.

"I love you, Shane Brandon McMahon...."

I took a deep breath, fighting tears. "Oh, baby," I whispered. "...Jo, I love you...." I felt like a feather...this huge weight was off my shoulders. I had finally said it. Out loud. Where she could hear it.

"And that's why we can't do this. Not ever."

"WHAT!?" Dammit all to hell....

"Shane, we can't...your reputation..."

"Fuck my reputation," I growled. "I love you, and I want to be with you and that's it. Shane 2:14 says 'Love is blind'."

"But the media's NOT, Shane," Josie pointed out.

"My SISTER conducted her love affairs in public," I shot right back. I was not going to let her DO this...let her find ways why we couldn't be together. Not when I was so close.

"Your sister isn't in charge of a multi-million dollar company..."

"Actually, she is. Also...I got leverage."

"And what leverage is that?"

"The fact that I KNOW you love me." I smirked. "Baby, I'm relentless. You KNOW that. And besides, what you won't tell me, I'll just black-mail out of Mister Ayatollah Y2J."

Josie gasped. "You wouldn't DARE!"

"After all this time, baby, and you don't know me better than that?" I turned the car back on. "Scoot back over," I said. "I can't drive with you on my lap...I'll get too distracted." I was already distracted.

 

Somewhere during the ride back to the Limelight, Josie slipped her hand over mind on the gearshift. I relaxed my grip enough so that we were BOTH shifting. Her hand was so light and soft and I would peek over every so often to see her smile. She liked the way my hand felt under hers.

It had been about an hour and a half since we left the Limelight, and I didn't want this to end. The minute that door opened, the minute we walked back in that club, the potential of me being back in the 'Mister McMahon' doghouse was HUGE. I couldn't go back...I WOULDN'T go back there.

Not for anything.

 

I turned the car off, listening to the engine idle down. Just as slowly, I turned to look at the woman seated next to him. For some odd reason, I never noticed the sprinkle of freckles on her cheeks before. I never realized how long her hair was. It swept her shoulders and it filled with golden and auburn highlights...even in the harsh streetlights. I could see the glimmer of gold in the hazel eyes, and I was enraptured by the up and down of her breathing. Each curl seemed to sparkle in the night, as if stars had dropped from the sky to light in her hair. What was that song I was listening to earlier...yeah...Drops of Jupiter...with drops of Jupiter in her hair. 'How beautiful can one person be?' I asked myself in awe.

"Aren't we going in?" she asked after a while.

"I--not yet," I said. "I don't want to let this go."

She nodded.

"Not ever."

She nodded again, then dropped her head.

"I could fire you until tomorrow morning," I joked, trying to break the tension

She gave me the dreaded 'Miss Donnelly' glare.

I chuckled. "Just kidding, sweetheart."

She sighed. "Shane, what are we going to do?"

"I told you what we're going to do...I'm going to love you, and you're going to love me."

Jo sighed again. "Why am I even surprised anymore? Shane, you're being unrealistic."

"You should try it sometime," I shot back playfully. "It would do you some good."

She tried to shut me down with 'The Look' again.

"Um, Jo?"

"Yes?"

"'The Look' loses all effectiveness when I know the if I tickle that spot on the curve of your back, you meow like a little kitten."

"I knew this was a bad idea," she muttered.

I felt like I had been kicked in the gut again.

"Shane...I'm kidding."

"Does that mean I win?"

"That means...I'm thinking about it," she said. Before I could say anything, she held up a hand. "That's the best I can do right now, Shane. I know you want more..."

I nodded. It hurt. It hurt a lot. I had laid it all out on the line, and the best I could get was 'I'll think about it'. I knew why Josie was being so hesitant. That bastard Steven Cooper. I heard that Chris had taken a piece of his hide a couple of weeks ago. I wished I had been there to see it. I would have added a punch or two of my own.

 

Then, of course...there was Chris himself. Josie may not want to admit it. Hell, Josie may not even see it. But Chris is so in love with her. I can see it in his eyes. I can see it when he talks about her. I have no idea why he wasn't pursuing it...why he wasn't trying. Or maybe he knew, all along, that Josie had feelings for me. Maybe her happiness means more to him.

"I can wait," I said after doing some soul searching. "I waited this long...I can wait a little bit longer." I wanted her, of her own free will, of her volition. If she needed time to decide, then I would give her all the time in the world I could. I reached over and cupped Josie's cheek in my hand. "But let's get ONE thing straight. From now on...no more Mister McMahon. After everything you've done for me...you have earned the right to call me by name."

"But..."

I silenced her with a quick kiss. "I'll take a promise on that. Promise me...from now on, you call me Shane."

"I promise." Josie said.

"Now, uncross your fingers and say it like you mean it," I teased her.

"Damn you to hell," Josie growled.

"That happens only if you make me wait too long," I replied. I got hit with a brainstorm. She's a competitive girl, she would love it. "I have a proposition for you."

Josie raised one eyebrow.

"You have until Revenge to PROVE we can't work."

The other eyebrow went up.

"Come on...I know you're already trying to figure out how to get Triple H. You figure it out and you got it. But as SOON as Revenge is over...if you haven't proven, beyond a shadow of a doubt that we don't belong together, then I get to pursue you...US. Relentlessly."

"Are you sure you want the prize?" she asked me.

"Oh yeah, I want this prize," I said. "I can't wait to unwrap it, either." Josie blushed. God I love watching her blush. I leaned over and brushed her ear with my lips. "I'll leave THAT to your imagination for now," I whispered in her ear. "But just so you know...you're mine already."

"So you think."

"Even for your smarts, babe, you don't know HALF of the resources I got," I said. "I'm Shane McMahon...and I get what I want."

"Cocky bastard."

I leaned over and claimed her mouth with my own. "And you love me that way," I whispered into her lips.

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: The characters in this story are based on the on screen personas of the wrestlers who appear, and is not meant to reflect them in reality. Josie Donnelly is a pure original. The titles in this series come from the song 'Drops of Jupiter; by Train, and any lyrics are used without  
> permission.


End file.
